


The Chains of Normality

by Kc749



Series: Shoot: Interludes and Examinations [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kc749/pseuds/Kc749
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Season 3 finale. A look at where some of the team end up, and the difficulty of trying to live as normal people after all they've seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chains of Normality

_No video feed available… Searching for alternate audio feeds…_

“Hey Harrison, you get that appy off to surgery yet? We need the beds.” When there’s no answer to his question, ER director Dr. Mac Burgess repeats “Harrison? Maria? Hello?”

Suddenly the brunette starts. “Oops, sorry Mac, I was distracted. Yeah, he’s off to surgery. Dumbass might have a better chance if he’d come in when the symptoms started instead of downing a six pack of beer and some Percocet though.”

“Yeah, well, he’s twenty two and invincible. He’ll learn, eventually.”

The newest doctor on their team shrugs. “Or die.”

Mac stares at her for a second, as if considering saying something, then shakes his head instead and hands her a chart.

“Oh come on Mac, I’m off in five minutes. Can’t someone else take it? I still have dictations to do and I’ve been here for fourteen hours.”

“Last one for the night, I promise. You know we’re short staffed, and Louise is going to be late because her kid’s babysitter flaked out so she has to take them to her mom’s place. Just get this one seen and I won’t ask anything else.” The woman eyes him askance and he grins, a brilliant white smile against his dark skin. “Okay, I won’t ask until the next time.”

“Fine.” She flips open the chart. “An earache? Seriously? God, why can’t these people learn what the definition of “Emergency” is?” She’s walking away as she mutters, and Mac stares after her. Initially he was worried, when administration had sent her here as a transfer from an out of state hospital. But she’s starting to fit in, weird personality or not. He turns away.

*******

A woman who isn’t really a doctor, whose real name isn’t really Maria, turns and heads for the exam rooms on the left side of the hall. She’s kicking herself for losing focus on her new alias, for still thinking of herself as Sameen Shaw. That person doesn’t exist anymore, can’t exist. Holding onto it will just make it harder for her in the end. Better to bury it and move on, and be thankful the woman she is now is at least doing something she has practice at, instead of flipping burgers or stocking shelves.

She flips through the chart, notes that the patient has no allergies, and a pretty short medical history. She knocks once briefly on the door to the exam room and walks in.

There’s no one there.

Suddenly a hand comes from beside her, pressing over her mouth. She grabs it and almost breaks it before she recognises that it isn’t trying to constrict her breathing, has in fact carefully avoided her nose. Something inside her also recognises the feel of that particular hand.

She turns her head to the side, seeking confirmation that she isn’t just delusional, and the sight of Root with a finger to her lips, cautioning her not to make a sound, brings such an intense feeling of relief that Shaw has to close her eyes for a second so it doesn’t overwhelm her.

Root has a pad of paper in her hands, flips it open and passes it to Shaw. It reads “Not sure if you have a phone on you, but there is audio surveillance here, not video. Pretend I really am your patient just in case.” The hand over Shaw’s mouth draws back and Root moves over, sitting on the bed.

Shaw looks at her, nods, and says “Sorry about that Miss… Pond, is it? Just needed to take a glance at your file. You’re having some pain in your ears?”

“Oh, call me Emily. Just the one ear, really. I had surgery on it when I was younger, they had to replace one of the bones. But I’ve been getting dizzy spells and it hurts, too.” While she’s talking, Root reaches out and flips the pad of paper in Shaw’s hands, revealing a time, date, and address as well as a detailed list of instructions. The one at the bottom is a reminder to keep the notebook closed except in places she’s certain have no visual surveillance. She looks up, nods, and closes it.

She goes through the motions of examining Root’s ear, noting that the scar from her Stapedectomy is almost completely healed up. A few minutes later she writes the other woman a prescription for antibiotics and painkillers, gives all the instructions she normally would, and leaves, though not without looking back over her shoulder just in time to catch Root with a little smile on her face.

*******

All told it’s another hour and a half before Shaw actually gets to leave work, since she had a bunch of backlogged charts to sign off and dictate. The work takes longer than usual due to her being distracted. It’s been four long months since she turned and walked away from Root in New York. She hasn’t seen any of the team since that day. For all she knows, they could be dead, though she suspects that she would have heard from Root sooner if that was the case. Still, there’s a constant undercurrent of worry in the back of her head that she can’t shut off.

When she finally closes the last chart it’s nearing eight o’clock. Her stomach is growling, since she hasn’t eaten in about six hours. She manages to scrounge up some change from the bottom of her backpack and feeds it to the hospital vending machine in exchange for some roasted almonds. They aren’t a meal but they’ll do for the moment.

The walk to her apartment from the hospital is short, and uneventful except for the nagging sense of unease that she feels about being so exposed. Maria Harrison, her alias, isn’t military trained. She wouldn’t constantly check all avenues of approach, wouldn’t double back to make sure she isn’t being followed, so that means Shaw can’t either. It sets her senses on edge, especially since she knows someone is watching.

She keeps the notebook hidden until she’s in her apartment, does a check for bugs and then for safety’s sake opens it in the washroom, where there are no windows for a reflection to bounce off of and give her away. She memorises the info, then rips out the pages of writing and sticks them in her pocket, as if they had been scraps of paper she’d accidently picked up over the course of the day. She feeds them to the cross cut shredder in her bedroom.

*******

A week later Shaw is at the movies, as instructed. Thankfully Root had the sense (or good taste) to choose something other than a chick flick or the crap that passes for comedy these days. The pre-film commercials are playing when Root climbs the steps to Shaw’s right and feigns surprise. “Oh, hi there! I don’t know if you remember but I saw you at the hospital last week. You fixed my ear.”

Shaw plays along, asking how ‘Emily’ is doing. They chat until the movie begins, building a groundwork of two people meeting that have more in common than they realised. When the movie finishes Root offers to buy ‘Maria’ a coffee, saying that she hasn’t met anyone as interesting as her in forever, and the fact that she means it to be a date is very clear.

It’s a bit weird for Shaw to have Root act so damned normal. She has just the right amount of hesitation in her voice when she asks Shaw out, like she’s nervous about being turned down. Considering that on their first meeting Root threatened to torture Shaw with an iron and their relationship only got wackier as time went on, it sort of feels like they’ve skipped backwards in time. As if they’re just now getting around to doing the things that normal people do.

Shaw is carefully reticent, talking about how she really isn’t supposed to date her patients, and that she could get in trouble if they got caught. ‘Emily’ persists, saying that she won’t tell anyone. Shaw gives in after a couple of minutes.

They sit and talk over coffee, although Root mostly carries the conversation. Apparently her current alias is an artist, sculptures and oil paintings.

Shaw is busy reliving some memories that she’s been doing her best to ignore the last few months. Memories of Root telling her they have to separate, of the choking helplessness she’d felt. When they’d pulled into an underground garage Root had been almost silent, finishing wrapping the bullet graze on her arm from their hasty departure from the Samaritan complex. Though Shaw wasn’t the world’s best judge of character, it hadn’t been hard to see that the hacker was focusing on anything available to try to distract herself from their impending farewell.

The bitch of it was that Shaw had just started to get used to the other woman. Sure, she still pissed Shaw off occasionally, but more and more Shaw found herself liking the compliments she got from Root, and enjoying the other woman’s faith in her abilities even in complex and dangerous situations. Then suddenly there they were, ready to walk away and possibly never see each other again, and Shaw was cursing herself for wasting time. Losing Cole should have taught her that lesson.

To give Root credit, she was doing her best to make it all easier. She outlined Shaw’s new alias crisply, no hesitation or hint of emotion in her voice. Her eyes couldn’t lie though.

Shaw still isn’t sure what made her do it. She’s always been impulsive, and in fact it’s one of the hallmarks of her personality disorder, to take leaps without checking first to make sure the parachute is working. One minute Root was talking and the next Shaw had her backed against the side of the SUV, kissing her. The car door was still open, providing at least some cover. Root didn’t hesitate to respond to the kiss, but when Shaw pushed her down onto the back seat she pulled back enough to ask “What are we doing?”

Shaw had stared at her for a long moment, then reached out and undone the other woman’s coat. “I’m making sure you miss me.”

She’s yanked back to the present by a waiter approaching them, asking if they’d like refills. Root answers for them, but she’s watching Shaw carefully, and Shaw suddenly wonders if she’d given away some sign of which particular memory she’d been reliving. From the slight upward tilt of one side of Root’s lips, she’d guess that she had. An unfamiliar sensation runs through her, and suddenly she feels her face flushing, warmth radiating through her upper chest and arms. She can’t remember the last time she blushed, but she sure didn’t miss the feeling.

A few minutes later ‘Emily’ offers to show Shaw some of her artwork, in her studio across town, where she also lives. Conveniently.

Shaw takes a second to wonder if her alias would be likely to be this impulsive, but then figures that Root was the one who created it, so she ought to know better than Shaw what would seem normal. She accepts the offer, follows the other woman as they drive across town.

*******

Root’s place smells faintly of oil paints and clay even before she leads Shaw up to the second story of a small house, where an open floor plan and large windows make it an ideal setting for an artist. During the day this place would be full of natural light. Root goes through the motions of showing Shaw some of her art, which is surprisingly good, before inviting her back downstairs. They walk through a hallway and into a kitchen, which seems oddly bare. Shaw doesn’t have time to wonder about it as Root opens a door and gestures for Shaw to precede her down a set of steps.

When they get to the bottom Shaw just stands and stares a bit. There’s an entire apartment hidden down here. There’s a sitting area, a couch and coffee table but no television. In fact, Shaw notes, glancing around, there’s no technology of any sort that could be used for audio or visual surveillance. Root immediately sets about doing a sweep anyway, making sure there are no prying eyes watching or ears listening, and Shaw watches mutely until the other woman finally turns with a smile and says “Did you miss me? I could tase you for sentimental reasons if you like, in homage to our past.”

Shaw looks at her for a long moment, then reaches out and pulls her into a fierce kiss. It lasts for some time, and Root seems quite reluctant to let go when Shaw starts to pull away. Her eyes are glowing, and she’s grinning like a fool. “Hi,” Root says brightly.

Casually, as if it’s something she’s done a thousand times, Shaw whacks Root hard upside the back of the head. The expression on the hacker’s face is hilarious, as is the way her hair puffs out at the impact.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Root demands, rubbing the spot.

Shaw glares at her. “Four months? Four fucking months, Root?! What the hell took you so damn long?!”

Root pouts at her. “I was making sure the guys were safe. I figured you’d be the best at surviving the transition. And it’s a good thing I did check on them first. Harold was just withdrawn but John… I had to sic a friend of his, Zoe Morgan, on him. He wasn’t even eating. Idiot.” There’s less venom in her insults to John than there used to be, as if she’s finally starting to acknowledge that he’s a useful team member.

“Wait, won’t that put Zoe in danger? You better not get her killed, Root.”

Root rolls her eyes. “Will you never learn to trust me?” She eyes Shaw askance. “You’re not going to hit me again are you?”

Shaw gives her a completely deadpan look, just to make her sweat, before shaking her head. “Nah.” She walks over and plunks down on the couch, unlacing her boots and toeing them off.

Root enters the small kitchenette and grabs two beers before taking up a spot on the other end of the couch, leaving about three feet of distance between them.

Shaw raises an eyebrow at her. “What, do I stink or something?”

Root tilts her head slightly and regards her steadily. “I didn’t want to push.”

Shaw snorts. “That’s a first.”

Root drops her eyes. “Flirting when you don’t expect it to go anywhere is one thing. Flirting after it does…” She trails off.

“Wait, so all those times you were flirting with me you weren’t trying to get me to sleep with you?” Shaw’s voice is full of skepticism.

Root thinks about it for a minute and then says “I didn’t think you’d settle for me.”

“You know, for a genius hacker you’re kinda dumb.”

“Oh, well excuse me for having a few human hang-ups. Maybe I’m not Super-girl twenty-four hours a day.” Root crosses her arms and sits back, not looking at Shaw anymore.

Shaw rolls her eyes. “God, you pick the weirdest times to be a woman, you know that?” She reaches out a hand and pulls the other woman over against her. There isn’t much resistance on Root’s part, not that it would matter. Shaw works out as rigorously as she always did.

It takes a few seconds, but Root eventually leans against her side, resting her head against Shaw’s shoulder. Her hair brushes against Shaw’s cheek, and Shaw can smell her shampoo, something with citrus in it. “I missed you,” Root whispers.

Shaw tries to answer but the words stick in her throat, so instead she just tightens her grip around the woman’s side.

*******

Hours pass like minutes here in Root’s apartment (which she calls a “Stedding”). Shaw asks her about it but regrets the choice when Root goes into a long explanation about it being from a book, and that it infers a place of safety but also a type of confinement. The safety part is easy, but it takes a bit longer for Shaw to realise that for someone like Root, having no access to technology must feel crippling. This is even before Root confides that she hasn’t heard from the Machine since that day in Manhattan. Shaw doesn’t miss the pain in the hacker’s eyes but has no idea what to do about it.

They talk about Harold and Bear and John and Fusco, about the fact that crime rates in New York have actually gone up since the rise of Samaritan, since there isn’t anyone there to try to help the ‘irrelevant’ numbers anymore.

Somewhere around midnight Root falls asleep, her head on Shaw’s shoulder. Shaw’s hand has gone numb, and she has to pee like crazy, so despite her desire to stay where she is she shifts out from under Root and lowers her to the couch, then pads off to the bathroom.

When she comes out Root is sitting up on the couch, still half asleep but watching Shaw like she’s afraid that she’ll disappear if she doesn’t. Shaw stands there for a second, irresolute, and then shrugs at the other woman. “You have a real bed in this place?” she asks.

Root smiles, not the “I know more than you do” kind, but the real one, the one that pulls at one side of her mouth and crinkles the edges of her eyes. She climbs off the couch and takes Shaw’s hand, pulling her into her bedroom.

*******

It’s nearing five o’clock, and Shaw has been awake since four am the morning before, but she doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want to go back out there and be Maria Harrison with her stupid ordinary job and her boring ordinary life. If she can’t be who she really is out there in the world than she wants to stay right here, where at least there’s one person who understands.

Maybe Root can sense how she feels, because she wedges herself tighter into Shaw’s side. “Don’t go yet,” she whispers. “Hell, stay and take up permanent residence. We’ll pretend to elope and act like normal people for the world and still have someone around that gets it.”

“I have to go,” Shaw says, feeling like the words are tearing her throat apart. “I need to be at work in two hours. And Maria fucking Harrison is never late.”

Shaw can feel it as Root draws a deep breath, and if it’s a bit shaky, well, Shaw is feeling none too steady herself at the moment. “Okay,” Root says softly. She pulls away, tries unsuccessfully to hide the tears on her face as she swipes at them.

“I’ll come back,” Shaw promises, reluctantly pulling on her clothes.

Root nods, swallowing. “Okay,” she says again. They don’t say anything else as Root walks Shaw to her car and watches her drive away.

*******

“Hey Harrison, I need your help!” Mac shouts as a stretcher pulls through the ER doors. He’s bagging a patient as an EMT does compressions and two others veer the stretcher around the desk and toward a trauma room. Shaw grabs some gloves and jogs to catch up with them, listening as the EMT describes finding the patient at the scene of a car crash, a head on collision with a pickup. As the man turns to grab something off the crash cart, Shaw catches a look at the patient.

Her heart flips. The woman on the table is Root.

Shaw doesn’t know how she’s still functioning. She can see her hands starting IV’s, taking over compressions for the EMT when he tires, holding the flashlight while Mac intubates a woman that was alive and talking to her less than eight hours ago. But she can’t feel a thing, no pain, no heat or cold. There’s a ringing in her ears, almost a roar, and it makes it hard to hear anything the others are saying about internal bleeding and potential broken bones.

They shock her four times but finally get her heart going again. There’s hope that she won’t end up a vegetable, at least: she hadn’t quite flat-lined at the time the EMTs arrived, so the amount of time her brain was without oxygen is almost nil. That won’t matter though, if they don’t get the bleeding stopped. They prep her for surgery, and before Shaw can really react Root is being wheeled away. She waits until the elevator doors close, gives Mac an excuse of some sort about needing to leave, and flees down the stairs of the hospital into one of the old unused change rooms.

For about a minute she stands stock still, her brain trying to process, and then suddenly she snaps. She hits anything she can, striking out blindly and yelling at the top of her lungs. When the storm passes she ends up on the floor, both hands bloody and covered in cuts, tears falling and her hair draping her face like curtains.

How long she stays that way she doesn’t know. Eventually she stands, makes her way to the sink and washes her face and hands, reopening the cuts but relishing the physical pain, anything to distract from the ache in her chest. She takes some deep breaths, straightens her spine, and goes back to work.

*******

After the third time Mac sees her staring blindly into space, he pulls Shaw into an empty exam room, concern on his face as he asks her what’s wrong.

“I’ve seen you deal with everything from traumatic amputations to a two year old drowning victim and I’ve never seen you this way,” he says, his eyes kind.

“I guess I just hit a wall,” Shaw responds. “I’ll get over it, Mac, I promise. I can do my job.”

He sighs. “I’m not worried about how many patients you get seen. I’m worried about you. You’re part of my team.”

Shaw wants to disagree, wants to scream that her team is in pieces, scattered like a dandelion gone to seed and hit by a hurricane, that part of her team is upstairs in an operating room with her abdomen sliced open and fighting for her life, and the rest are as far away as if on Mars. She takes a deep breath and calls up every last scrap of fight she has left in her and says “I’m good.”

Mac lets out a sigh again, then nods softly. “Okay. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.” He rests a hand on Shaw’s shoulder for a second and then leaves the room.

Shaw gives herself another five minutes to deal, then shoulders the burden of Maria Harrison again and goes back to the ER desk, feeling the weight of the persona as if it were physical chains dragging behind her.

*******

Mac sends her off early, saying he has an extra staff member from the float pool. Shaw isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth or just saying it to get her to go home but she doesn’t bother to question it. She doesn’t leave, however, instead making her way up to the fourth floor where the critical care patients are housed. If Root made it out of surgery then that’s where she’ll be.

The charge nurse asks why she’s there and Shaw concocts a story on the spot about following a patient from admission to discharge as part of a research study she’s involved in. This is apparently satisfactory and she is left alone thereafter. She finds Root’s chart (though it took her a second to remember to look for ‘Emily Pond’) and is relieved to find that she has been listed as being in “serious but stable” condition. She’s still intubated. The surgeons managed to stop the bleeding, though they had to remove her spleen.

Shaw enters the room Root was admitted to and just stands there staring, watching as the other woman breathes. She’s never seen Root this still before, and it’s an eerie experience.

She’s never hated computers more than she does right now, because she knows that even if there isn’t any video surveillance here there is definitely audio, so she can’t even tell Root that it will be okay. She settles for resting a hand on Root’s shoulder for a second, then leaves.

*******

Five days pass. Shaw continues to visit Root when she can, bringing a clipboard and pen to maintain the illusion of being involved in a research study. Root is still unconscious, being kept in a simulated coma both because of the intubation and to help her body heal.

On day six, the ICU doctors decide to remove the tubes from her lungs and wake her up, to assess whether she’s suffered any cognitive damage. When Shaw reads her chart that day and sees that Root was apparently able to answer all of their questions, she breathes for what feels like the first time in days. She goes to the hacker’s room to see her but she’s asleep, snowed under by the morphine she’s being given to keep the pain at bay. Shaw doesn’t have the heart to wake her up, and staying would cause suspicion. She decides she’ll come back on her break.

When Shaw comes back later that day Root is gone.

Her first panicked thought is that the hacker died while she was away. She tries to keep the anxiety out of her voice as she asks the charge nurse what happened to their patient. The nurse eyes her as if trying to figure out if she’s playing a joke, and then apparently decides that Shaw looks genuinely worried and goes to the room.

Thirty seconds later there’s a Code Yellow being called, and a floor by floor search being executed as the hospital staff try to figure out where the hell their patient could have gone to.

*******

Shaw doesn’t participate in the search. She knows, instinctively, where Root is. She stops at her apartment just long enough to get her med kit and then she’s driving, way over the speed limit, across town.

Root didn’t even make it into her bedroom. It’s a miracle that she hasn’t ripped out her stitches and bled to death by the time Shaw finds her curled up on the couch in her basement. There’s a syringe next to her, and a vial of morphine. Shaw says her name and touches her shoulder and Root wakes with a gasp.

“Easy,” Shaw says, gently holding the other woman’s shoulders down. “Try not to move too much.”

Root’s eyes are squinted against the pain. “Don’t take me back.” Despite the pain she reaches out and grips Shaw’s wrist, hard.

Shaw hesitates and then says “If I don’t you might die, Root.”

“If I go back you might die. Or Harold, or John. What if I start hallucinating? Which by the way, Demerol makes me do, so don’t give me any. I could start talking about us or the Machine and then we all die.”

Shaw rubs the back of her neck, already feeling a tension headache starting. “Fine. But if you stay here you do what I say. If I say you don’t move off that couch for anything, then you don’t move.”

“Deal.” Root closes her eyes, apparently exhausted from trying to make her way here.

“I’m restarting your IV,” Shaw says, pulling the other woman’s arm over and resting it flat, searching for a vein. “And try not to pull this one out.”

The procedure is quick, and Root stays completely still. Shaw hooks up a line and starts some fluid running, then mixes a smaller bag of morphine and hangs it as well. Once the drug kicks in Root drifts off to sleep again. Shaw makes a call to work and reports a family emergency in the meantime. Then she sits and watches Root, and luxuriates in the fact that at least now, she can stand guard over a wounded ally. She can be who she really is.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own them or there would be ever so much more sexy-fun-times, especially between these two. :) Also, I borrowed the Stedding part from Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series. They're places where evil cannot (or will not) enter, but they also prevent any magic whatsoever being used. And what is magic but science we just don't understand yet?


End file.
